by K B Cinder
Worse, the hunger wasn’t just an inconvenience. Pursuers were risking my safety. I had at least two fanatics on my radar, ones who regularly posted rambling love letters to me online. One of which that threatened to murder romantic rivals.
The thunder rolled on as I crafted a stem, each new leaf bringing hope to the painting, the turbulence in the backdrop a distant memory.
Another dip in the water and the green disappeared, replaced by a deep plum. A few dots finished the center of the piece, and as I sat back, my breath was taken away for the second time in two years.
* * *
Luke’s gasps blasted through the phone in a steady stream, the bear of a man’s breathing labored as if he’d just finished up running a marathon.
I held my cell phone out to the side to save my ear as I stepped out of the studio, closing the wall between lives with a thud.
“If you’re having sex while talking to me, I’ll kick you in the nads!” I warned.
I thought the obnoxious sex practices had ended with Josie. She was the only person that managed to leash the wild beast. If she wasn’t such a talented graphic artist, I would’ve pushed her into dog training. She’d already trained the biggest one of them all.
“Oh, thanks. Nice talking to you too, jackass.” He still sounded winded, each breath deafening. “I was wrestling with Linc. Now he’s in his room jumping around like a hamster on speed before bed.”
“Sounds about right.” My nephew had yet to learn the meaning of rest. Apparently I was in the same boat, the studio still calling my name as I walked down the hall.
But I couldn’t pull another all-nighter in front of the canvas. I needed sleep. Going into things fuzzy wasn’t an option. Not in my world.
“Do you want to come up in a few weeks? I know your schedule is nuts, so I figured I’d reach out before you flew off to Who-The-Fuck-Knows-Where-istan.”
“The wife pregnant?” I asked, strolling into the living room with my date of the night, a tumbler of Scotch. The marble was cool beneath my feet, a stark difference from the thick drop cloth in the studio.
“Fuck you! Don’t say anything or Josie will kill me. But that’s not why I’m inviting you.”
Holy shit. Did he know Jason and Elena’s news, too, or was I the only one that knew both brothers had a kid on the way?
“Jase know?” I threw it out there nonchalantly, a perfectly placed hook for information.
There was rustling on his end, Josie’s high-pitched voice in the distance telling Linc to go to bed. “No, but he’s not like you. No one is, really.”
I set my glass on the coffee table and flopped on the couch, the massive cushions sucking me in. “Thanks; I’m flattered.”
The rain continued to ping off the windows and invade the eerie quiet of the penthouse. I’d have to keep an eye on the forecast. Rain would complicate things, but throwing in a bonus would likely keep everything on track.
“It’s not a bad thing. You’re always ten steps ahead and immediately call people out. The shit is exhausting to keep up with.”
I had to be. I closed my eyes, hoping the muscles in my neck would relax, the tension dangerously close to sparking a monster headache. “So, what’s going on?”
He released a sigh into the receiver, another blast from hell unleashed on my ear. “I wanted to get my brothers together in one place. Is that a crime?”
“No, just random; that’s all.” I didn’t mind making the trip up north. Getting out of Boston for a bit wouldn’t be a bad idea. I needed time to regroup and refocus.
“Not everything has a hidden meaning. Calm your tits, okay?” The bite to his voice would be menacing to anyone else, but I knew Luke wouldn’t hurt a fly. Well, he might punch me in the nuts, but that was usually the extent of his rage.
I smirked, glancing down at my bare chest, a few flecks of dried paint dancing across my pecs. “The tits are very calm.”
“Good, or I’ll freeze them solid while you’re here.”
I set my phone on speaker as I opened the calendar app. “Give me a date.” The months ahead were marked to hell and back, but I’d reschedule other obligations if needed. I only had me, myself, and I to answer to.
“It’s the last weekend of September. Don’t forget Jase and Elena are hosting Thanksgiving this year, too.”
“Sounds good. How’s everything?” It was a ways away, but he knew he had to nail me down while he could, not that I’d ever miss a holiday. Even in the worst of my funk, I still made time to see my brothers. After everything that had happened with Jason, I never neglected our bond.
“Busy as all hell. There are lines out the door every weekend, and the shop is booked solid.” His auto repair shop was his first love, but his brewery Barrett’s was next level, almost comparable to his love for his family.
“That’s kickass, dude.”
It was about time things fell into place for him. Life had dealt him a shit hand in robbing him of Josie for so long.
“You could always help if you get sick of globetrotting. Taking things a little slower wouldn’t kill you.”
“But dealing with you might,” I laughed, evading the rat’s nest with a finesse that came from years of practice. Moving back to Briar was out of the question. Small towns talked louder than any city. Especially Briar.
“I’m serious. You’re always going balls to the wall. Stepping back would do you good.”
“I love my life.” The words came pouring out automatically, a line I’d regurgitated thousands of times. A line I wasn’t so sure was true anymore.
And Luke saw right through it. “That was delivered with the passion of a dish sponge.”
“We aren’t all ready for the ball and chain,” I mocked, preparing for battle with the shiniest of word weapons. “Some of us like freedom.”
I’d learned that the fastest way to avoid prying was through a quick, aggressive offense. Getting a little personal helped, too.
“I’m not asking you to settle down, asshole. I’m telling you to relax. You’re always going a hundred miles an hour. It’s not healthy.”
“Pot meet kettle.” It wasn’t like I wanted to ruffle his feathers. I needed to.
“Look, you don’t have to take my advice. You’re always the first one to spout off about what everyone should do. Why don’t you listen to someone else for once?”
“Because you’re wrong.” Only he wasn’t.
“Alright, fine. Be like that. Be the miserable son of a bitch that shows up to family functions acting like an asshole. See if I care. But don’t think people will put up with your shit forever.”
Each word stung more than the last, twisting a knife in my gut. “I apologized.”
He’d never let me forget how I treated Josie, rubbing salt in the wound whenever he got the chance. Once I knew the truth, it hurt like hell to know I’d believed the worst of a woman who was a sister for so many years. She didn’t deserve the things I’d said. The things I’d thought.
“Maybe if you’d let me explain things beforehand, you wouldn’t have been so goddamn hateful.”
“I was busy.” It wasn’t a valid excuse, but it was all I had. He had me cornered, and he knew it. Dammit. In reality, I didn’t care to listen to anyone. I’d gone to Jason’s wedding in a blind rage.
“Don’t give me that. You can’t have a family only when it’s convenient to you. You might do that with your dick, but you don’t do that with blood.”
Great. I’d kicked off World War III with the biggest, baddest motherfucker in the Western Hemisphere. One who knew nearly every kink in my armor like the back of his hand. “I never said that.”
“You don’t need to. Your actions show it.”
The vein in my neck throbbed despite attempts to keep my anger in check. The only thing worse than one angry Barrett was two. “Are we really fighting about this right now?”
“Fuck yeah! You’re always Mr. Fucking Perfect! Guess what? You’re just as flawed and fucked up as the rest of u
s, no matter what you think!”
No shit. I wanted to reach through the phone and shake him, to scream the truth in his face, to let him know just how fucked up I was. But I couldn’t. “Okay… and this is all spawning out of me missing a phone call or conversation? A bit of an overreaction, no?”
A snort sounded loud and clear from his end. “That and a million other things.”
I slid a hand over the back of my neck, kneading the muscles. “Someone’s hostile.”
“Damn right. I want you to be a better brother. A better uncle. God knows you fucking need to learn how.”
I couldn’t contain the chuckle that rumbled out. “Because you’re the prime example of being a good man, right? The man that was bobbing his apple in the mouths of all of Briar only a few months ago.”
I regretted the words as soon as I’d said them, but it was too late to reel them back in. The damage was done. As usual, I lashed out at those closest to me. The ones trying to help.
“Shut the fuck up!” he roared, loud enough that I knew I was fucked the next time we saw one another. I earned a bloody lip or a slashed tire fair and square for that one.
“It’s the truth.” Honesty always hurt the most, especially delivered on an arrow through the heart. He might’ve known my weak points, but I knew his, too.
“I’ve changed.”
He did. In fact, once Josie landed back in Briar, the man whore transformed into a family man. It was a little scary how quickly he’d changed. Apparently I wasn’t the only Barrett that could morph at the drop of a hat.
“That doesn’t mean my life is any less respectable than yours now that you have a family.” It was a lot lonelier, but it still mattered.
“You’re right. You pay for pussy. I forgot that makes you better.”
“I do?” I laughed harshly, rage burning in my chest. Regardless of how right he was, it didn’t make it any less infuriating. I didn’t know the last time I’d fucked a woman without tucking a wad of hundreds in her hand at the end of the night, but it was necessary. I had needs.
“Yeah, that or you’re living the life of a priest, and I highly doubt the latter.”
“I did always look good with a collar…” I trailed.
“I’m being serious, shithead. You need to slow down. Smell the roses. Lay some roots.”
I had more roots than all of Briar, spread wide and sunken into every crevice. “Worry about yourself, will you? All the ink has made you edgy. Have a drink.”
He didn’t reply, choosing to hang up instead. Knowing Luke, he was going to launch himself onto the back deck to calm down, but not before calling me back to tell me what a cocksucker I was. At least that’s how it usually went.
I sighed, ready to pass out with a mouthful of melatonin. Pills guaranteed a trip to dreamland, a place that was becoming harder to reach.
I wrestled myself from the comfort of the cushions, for once not falling for their fuckery. They were heaven to sit on, but if I fell asleep, I wouldn’t be able to move my neck in the morning. It was one of the perks of entering my thirties, apparently.
If Luke was planning on delivering his blistering follow-up call, he needed to hurry, or he’d be ignored yet again. Luckily for him, my phone rang just before I reached the hallway, the high-pitched chirp of a video call loud and clear.
I swiped the screen, already flipping off the lens when Luke’s face didn’t appear - Kee’s did. Bare-faced and beautiful with curls raining down.
“Really?” she laughed, her yips bouncing off the empty hall walls.
My middle finger fell, the digit curling back into my fist as I lifted the phone to head-level. “Sorry!”
Shit.
“Not expecting me?” Her full lips curled into a smirk as she sat lounged in a t-shirt on her couch, still easily passing for a woman straight from a runway with her natural beauty.
“No. I was talking with my brother. I thought he was calling me back.” More like killing each other, but I wouldn’t go there.
“You always greet him that way?” she asked, eyeing me through the screen with a raised brow.
“We have an interesting dynamic.” That was one way to put it. But it was hard to describe a bond as powerful as ours. One formed through years of hardship.
She grinned, her hazel eyes lighting up with amusement. “I can tell. If he’s anything like you, I assume he’s a handful.”
“He’s worse,” I assured, a shiver running down my spine as the air conditioning kicked on.
“Is he single?” a familiar, hoarse voice asked, the camera panning to include Lil, the forever fashionista, decked out in a red plunging top that matched her lips, a black choker and earrings completing her look.
“Sorry, he’s married,” I replied with a grin, knowing Lil would probably faint if she saw all three of us Barretts together.
The camera panned back to Kee, her eyes narrowed as she leaned closer to her phone to study the screen. “Have you been painting?”
Fuck.
No wonder I was cold. I forgot I was shirtless, my attempts at splatter earlier a little too ambitious. “Yeah, I had to touch up the bathroom.”
The bathroom? Jesus. I really needed to think better on my feet.
“Where are you? A palace?”
I glanced around, realizing my back was to the living room, a full view of the penthouse there for the taking. Well, fuck if things didn’t go from bad to worse.
“I’m at a friend’s house,” I lied, guilt surging to my core. The lie felt like acid, my tongue burning at the words. “I need to get back to painting. Chat later, Plum?”
She smiled wide, the sight bandaging the wound the lie had inflicted. “Sounds good. Don’t get too wild with that paint.”
“I won’t.”
She ended the call, her face vanishing, replaced by my phone’s backdrop of a spider web, a fitting choice given my life. Everything in me wanted to call her back, invite her over, and kiss her senseless.
But I couldn’t.
“Message Kira,” I ordered, continuing toward my bedroom, ready to shower away temptation before hitting the sack. My fingers wouldn’t write the message, but my voice could. I was always better lying through my teeth than in writing. "Event tomorrow, sweets. Wear something sexy as usual. Be at the Public Garden at 8:00 PM."
The auction required arm candy, and Kira was the best there was. As a model, she was a perfect companion, used to shutting her mouth and posing. She didn’t mind fucking after in a hotel either, as long as it was five-star.
Given how out of control I was getting, I needed the distraction.
Keely
Holy guacamole.
I stared at my phone, unable to believe what I was seeing, but there it was, clear as day.
Ethan: Event tomorrow, sweets. Wear something sexy as usual. Be at the Public Garden at 8:00 PM.
It wasn’t all in my head after all. Ethan felt something too. But why hadn’t he just friggin told me instead of letting me flop around like a big, awkward flounder?
Because that would’ve been too easy. Duh. Or maybe he was in the same pickle I was, not wanting to make things weird in case it backfired.
I shot back a quick ok text, vowing not to come off eager before searching online for Public Garden events, heart dropping when I saw it was an auction hosted by the Lorelei, the creme de la creme of the art scene.
I hadn’t been to anything like it in years, my parents’ invitations to society events drying up as they fell out of favor. The whole scene was a game, one I’d never been willing to play. But the Lorelei? My parents were never invited to their galas even at the peak of their popularity.
I played it cool until Lil left for the night, not wanting to tip my hand about the invite. After how horribly she and Jorge reacted to my previous failures, I wouldn’t muck this one up in advance. I was throwing advice to the wind and hoping for the best.
As soon as the front door clicked behind Lil, I looked down at my oversized t-shirt, the fabr
ic swallowing what little figure I had, two smooshed thighs poking out the bottom as they did the awful splat thing on the cushions. It was my typical after-work look, but it showed just how unprepared I was.
I had to find something worthy of being on the arm of Tall, Dark, and Sexy while surrounded by the wealthiest people in the state. Maybe even the country.
No pressure or anything.
I flew off the couch and rushed to my bedroom, flinging open my closet to groan aloud at its contents. Everything I owned screamed work or hippie. I didn’t have anything remotely elegant. I hadn’t needed anything like it in years.
So, I did what any girl would do in a time of need: I called my dad. Most wouldn’t rely on theirs for fashion advice, but Sean Doyle wasn’t just any dad. He was the curator at an art museum and a certifiable Lorelei stalker. If anyone knew what to wear to their events, it was him.
“Keely Kee!” he greeted, answering on the second ring, as usual.
“Dad, what do I wear to an art auction?” I exploded, flipping through clothes-hangers. If I didn’t have something, I’d have to run to Newbury Street in the morning and hope they had something bangin’ on a budget. Thanks to a bi-weekly pay schedule, I was broke as a joke after paying rent.
“Depends on the kind and the venue,” he replied, the clanking of a fork and plate in the background. At eight o’clock, he was right on schedule working his way through one of Mom’s famous overcooked meals. “What’s the scoop?”
“I’m going to one tomorrow night at the Public Garden. I have no idea what to wear.”
“The Lorelei’s?” He sounded as shocked as I expected. “How in the hell did you land tickets to that?”
“Ethan invited me.”
Stab. Stab. Scrape. Scrape. Mom most likely made meatloaf based on all the knife and fork action on the other end, the meat concoction always emerging as a chewy brick. It was little wonder I became a vegetarian at age nine.
Dad chewed with the grace of a bovine in my ear, the only way anyone could power through Mom’s proteins. It was a sort of frantic chew, chew, drink combination, liquid a must to clear your plate without choking. “How in the hell did he get tickets?”
